


Dorm 7

by flightlxsss



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claustrophobia, Depression, Drug Use, Gryffindor/Slytherin Inter-House Relationships, Harry Potter Has PTSD, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Past Child Abuse, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Sharing a Room, Wandless Magic (Harry Potter), maybe a little ron and hermione bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:09:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28882965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightlxsss/pseuds/flightlxsss
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Theodore Nott/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

Harry never expected his seventh year to become an eighth. He never expected to fight and win a war. Now, on the train to Hogwarts, for his last time, he was stuck staring out the window in a daze. Now, after seven years of fighting for his life, he can finally live. Breathe. At least that's what he thought when things were all said and done. He was wrong, and now that he doesn't have to worry about his impending doom, he has to process the trauma he has endured since he was a baby. Harry has nothing but time to think about the brutal abuse from his aunt and uncle. He has nothing but time to think about his parents, Cedric Diggory, Sirius, Dumbledore, Fred, Remus, and the countless others that died in the war. A war he felt solely responsible for. Harry knows he isn't the one that started the war, or enforced the pureblood prejudice many people held but there is a part of him that always comes forward and tells him that it was all his fault. The same part of him that sounds like a scruffy Surrey accent or heavy stomps on the stairs above his head.

“Harry!”

Hermione’s voice shook Harry out of his daze. He turned to see her and Ron’s worried looks. No matter how many times he said ‘no really, I’m fine,’ they wouldn’t let it go. He is fine. He doesn’t need help, he doesn’t. Who is he kidding? He isn’t fine, but he certainly doesn’t need help. He would never dare to ask anyway. Ron and Hermione have spent the last seven years helping him-they would die for him. Harry didn’t need to add another burden onto their shoulders. He appreciates their concern but doesn’t see why it’s so necessary.

“Yeah?” Harry said softly while meeting her eyes. He missed the cinnamon color of her irises over the summer holiday. He has spent his time after the final battle holed up in Grimmauld Place, excluding the first two weeks he spent at the Burrow. He turns to look at Ron, who looks almost worried as Hermione does.

“Har-”

“We have been calling your name for five bloody minutes, mate! Are you alright? We’re almost there so we should change into our robes soon.” Ron interrupted. Harry whipped his head back around to the window and sure enough, he could see Hogsmeade station in the distance.

“Yeah okay, uh, where should I change?” He murmured. It was no secret that Ron and Hermione got together shortly after the final battle. Harry guessed that they didn’t want to waste time going slow because they knew how quickly things could change. He didn’t blame them either. He and Ginny had done the same, but that fell apart quickly. Before going on the run, Harry had broken up with Ginny and promised to get back together with her after everything was all over. He had kept his word, but over those months they both changed and they had both lost so much in such a short time. Things were different, and Harry being extremely fucked up didn’t help the situation. In the end, the breakup was amicable.

Ron and Hermione looked to each other, then to Harry. “Harry, mate, it’ll be you and I in here like always.” Harry would never say it out loud, but sometimes he felt like Ron and Hermione had forgotten all about him. He smiled and nodded his head, slightly eager to have what would feel like his first minute alone with his best mate since May second. Hermione brushed her hand across Harry’s shoulder as she left the train compartment; it was her silent way of showing affection when she could tell Harry was feeling smothered. And he was, feeling smothered that is, but also so neglected at the same time. It was bizarre, but not out of the ordinary for him these days. He and Ron pulled down their trunks from the top rack in silence, and Harry flicked his wrist to shut the blinds on the glass door. “Harry I- you know that we’re here for you mate, right?” Ron broke the silence.

“Yeah Ron, I know. And I appreciate it, and you guys. I’m fine. I am.”

They finished putting on their robes in comfortable silence. Typically, the real words Ron wanted to say were left unspoken. It was okay because Harry understood. He understood that his friends loved him, and were there. He knew, and he and Ron always left these conversations by communicating those three words with looks. It was something they’d gotten quite good at over the years.

Harry tried not to think about this school year and what it would bring as he sat back down and looked out at the rolling hills of Scotland. He wondered who the new defense teacher would be, and whether or not Slughorn would come back to teach potions. Hagrid had taken some time off after the war to stay in France with Madam Maxime and had taken the spot of gamekeeper at Beauxbatons. Professor McGonagall is headmaster as well. Harry wondered if other students were as affected by the war as him. Have they moved on? Was he the only one still stuck in the past? Harry often wondered about the Slytherins and what school would be like for them this term, and he wondered if the returning eighth-year Slytherins would continue to act the way that they have all this time. Maybe without the blatant blood prejudice, though. Harry didn’t know if anyone still had those views, or if they’d started to dissipate after the death of their leader.

The Hogwarts Express pulled up to Hogsmeade station. Part of him wished he’d just apparated to school so he wouldn’t have to deal with these crowds. At King’s Cross, he’d received an unhealthy amount of attention and that was more than he could handle in one day. He didn’t know how the students would react. As the trio left the train compartment, Harry felt Hermione’s free hand on the small of his back and Ron’s on his shoulder. They weren’t pushing, rather silently showing their support for him. It was a gesture he appreciated immensely. He took a deep breath and carried on through the thin hall with his best friends right by him. Harry took one final breath before the school year crashed down on him, and pushed open the train door. They were the last ones out so there was quite the crowd. Amongst the what seemed like hundreds of gazes in their direction, Harry met only one.

Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you for reading my first chapter. I've tried a few times to publish fics on various sites and apps, but I always ended up abandoning them. This fic, however, I plan to finish. I have no uploading schedule atm because I'm 17 and a junior in high school during this absolute SHIT time. As excited as I am for this story, I should put school first.
> 
> Also, this is my first time uploading on ao3 so please have some patience while I try and figure this all out :) If you have any info about ao3 you would like to pass on, I will eagerly accept ha! 
> 
> Enjoy chapter 2 !!!

He thought walking into school would feel the same; he thought it would revive something in him that he’d lost. But it hadn’t. Not even fucking close. Making his way under old stone archways was supposed to feel remarkable like it had when he was eleven, but now all Harry feels is angry and depressed. The beautiful grounds and grand castle seem to be nothing but bad memories now. It’s almost as if Harry can’t tell if anything has changed at all, but everything has changed. He supposes that having Ron and Hermione with him makes it better. Ginny is there too, as well as Luna and Neville. At least that feels normal. He wonders if everyone else is thinking about how just five months ago these walls were rubble. And the bodies, merlin. He puts it all into the back of his head as they trudged through the doors of the Great Hall. There is a long, uncomfortable pause in the low chatter as the trio shows their faces. After a moment applause breaks out. 

Oh for fuck’s sake. This is what he hates. He hates the thanks and applause. Harry hates all of it because he doesn’t want to be Harry Potter anymore. He just wants to be Harry; a nameless face in a crowd. He wants the floor to open up and swallow him, and it probably could if he knew the right spell. With gentle nods and smiles, the trio makes their way to the Gryffindor table with Ginny and Neville in tow. Luna made her way to the Ravenclaw table a minute ago. 

Looking around the room, Harry notices how empty it is. There are empty spaces where students used to sit. Live students. He wasn’t surprised to see the Slytherin table most vacant, with only a handful of younger students and the returning eighth years. Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, and Gregory Goyle. Harry is reminded of the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement and how he felt Malfoy silently weeping into his shoulder after watching Crabbe’s body become engulfed by flames. Harry’s thoughts were interrupted by Professor McGonagall’s loud voice. With her wand to her throat, she said, “Quiet! First years, welcome. Now, this year will surely be different for many of you. Me, as well as your other professors, are here to help you with readjusting to life at Hogwarts.” 

She paused for a moment and a contemplative look washed over her normally calm features. Other students seemed to notice this as well because a low hum of voices began to fill the empty silence. “Wonder what she’s got that look for, mate. She’s bloody worrying me.” Ron whispered with a laugh, his face close to Harry’s. It was worrying him, too. He looked over towards the Slytherin table once more and caught the eye of Blaise Zabini before quickly looking back towards the front of the room. He could tell everyone was trying to avoid looking over there, he could see them averting their eyes any time they wandered. McGonagall cleared her throat and began again. 

“Due to the events of last year, and the events of the years further in our past we have decided to include everyone in the house sort this year.” And the hall went silent before loud and vehement protests broke out. There was what sounded like one collective gasp among all the students. Harry didn’t think that necessarily sounded great but he and his friends were Gryffindors through and through. They didn’t have anything to worry about, right? McGonagall began yet again, “Silence! We have collectively decided that this is just one of the many exercises that will increase house unity! I will see to it that no one causes any trouble within  
their housemates, or amongst others. With all that we have been through, this is imperative. Now, all of the first years come to the front. Our returning students have already been placed in a new house and I will list them now.” 

Harry barely paid attention until the names of his friends were brought up.  
“Hermione Granger...Ravenclaw!” 

“Ronald Weasley...Gryffindor!” 

“Neville Longbottom...Gryffindor!” 

“Luna Lovegood...Ravenclaw!” 

“Ginny Weasley...Gryffindor!” 

There was a pause. A long pause. The silence was quite possibly the loudest thing Harry had ever heard. Even louder than the screams and sounds of curses flying through the crisp air in Scotland. 

“Harry Potter...Slytherin!” 

Harry felt his stomach drop. Hard. He hadn’t felt like this since the first time he was locked in the cupboard for five days. The joyful voices of the hall quickly became a low and mindless chatter. It was all white noise to Harry. The dread felt like a ton of lead in his stomach. It felt thick in his throat. He felt Hermione nudge his shoulder. Harry was surely in a daze now. Vaguely he heard Ron and Seamus’ protests; even Dean Thomas was adamant that it had been a mistake. Harry supposed that it wasn’t, after all the hat had almost placed him in Slytherin first year. It made sense. He fucking hated that it made sense.

Harry shakily rose to his feet and made quick goodbyes to his friends and the entire Gryffindor table. A small smile was all he could muster. He’d deal with Ron and Hermione later. He had something much larger to tackle right now. This was mad. Harry made his way over to the long oak table across the room with knots in his stomach. It felt like this entire moment was in slow motion and with every step he took, another knot formed. He quickly sat down amongst the other eighth years. 

He kept his head down and, he swore to Merlin, almost wept when he saw the colors of his uniform turn from red and gold to green and silver. 

McGonagall continued with the sorting ceremony and concluded her welcome speech. The feast appeared on the table but Harry didn’t dare reach for a plate. It was a full Sunday roast and he can’t remember the last time he ate a good meal, yet he sat soundlessly as his classmates around him dug in without a word. The tension was palpable and Harry felt them staring. Malfoy sat diagonally from himself and Theo Nott sat on his left. Blaise and Pansy sat next to Malfoy.

Harry didn’t think he could ever begin to describe the anguish he felt. He sat through the entire feast staring at the table, thinking. Everything was changing so fast. He felt forgotten by Ron and Hermione. All he ever wanted was to be forgotten by everyone, but now he feels like he is quickly fading into the background. Were the rest of the Weasleys going to forget him too? Was he going to be left without a single friend? He certainly didn’t have any family to fall back on. His entire family was dead. His parents. Sirius. Remus. Hedwig. He didn’t have any living relatives who wanted him. His limbs felt heavy and his eyelids drooped in sadness. He was never going to make it through this year; he didn’t even think he would make it through this term. 

Harry dragged behind the herd of students as they shuffled out of the Great Hall. The path to the dungeons was one he knew, so he was able to remain in his head during the quick journey. After the initial wave of sadness washed over him, he began to panic. Where would he sleep? Would there be single dorms now that they were adults? Harry wondered if it would be a big dorm-like they’d had in Gryffindor tower. He was the only student that was resorted to Slytherin. He was going to be alone in a pit of snakes. Although he supposed he was one of them now. The thought made him want to sick up all over the stone floor. 

When they reached the Slytherin common room a prefect gave the Slytherin students the new password and directed the eighth year students to their new dorms. The young prefect explained that there would be two students per dorm; separated into boys and girls. Each dorm would have a small bathroom and kitchenette. After the brief explanation, the girl began to list the pairs. Harry didn’t bother to pay attention until he heard his name called, rather hesitantly. 

“Ha- Harry Potter and… Draco Malfoy.” She muttered. Harry heard Draco swear under his breath, something resembling ‘Merlin’s fucking balls’. Harry couldn’t agree more. The lead-in Harry’s stomach multiplied by ten. Sweet Circe, this year could not get any worse. At this point, Harry was just angry. Angry at fucking everyone. At Ron and Hermione for making him feel so alone. At fucking McGonagall for resorting him into Slytherin! He can’t fucking believe her. He was angry at Remus and Sirius for dying and leaving him here alone and afraid. He was angry at his aunt and uncle for fucking him up so badly, and he was angry at Malfoy. 

For reasons he didn’t even know, he hated Malfoy. Harry had thought that after defending him at his trial he could move on. He thought that he could forgive and forget their bad blood. Up until now, he thought that they could civil for their final year of school. Now he felt that all go out the window. 

Harry knew in the back of his mind that he was only this angry at Draco because he didn’t have anyone else to blame for his suffering. It was easy to blame Draco because he was right in front of him. It was easier to blame him than his friends or himself. 

They were guided down a hall to dorm number seven. Their trunks were already at the foot of both beds. They were made with black and silver sheets and had Slytherin green hangings around the posts. Without a word and seething with anger Harry walked straight to his trunk to grab pajamas before shutting himself in the bathroom. He thought about leaving school for the Auror position he was offered just to avoid this. Life would be better just dragging himself to and from the Ministry. It would be better to be holed up and alone with Kreacher. He changed quickly and splashed his face with cold water. 

He came out of the bathroom to find Malfoy’s bed hangings drawn closed. He could almost pick up the smell of the wards Malfoy had undoubtedly placed on his four-poster. Harry swiftly climbed into his bed, and he would admit to no one but himself that it was the most comfortable bed he’d ever laid in. He didn’t draw his curtains closed; he couldn’t. Closing the bed hangings made him feel too closed in; it felt too much like the cupboard. It felt too much like the times he’d been shut in for days. He knew that uncle Vernon wasn’t here and neither was Aunt Petunia but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he wouldn’t be able to open the curtains after they’d been shut. 

Harry summoned his wand and put wards up around his four-poster. If he was going to leave his curtains open he needed heavy wards. He set a Tempus on his wand for the morning and slipped his wand under his pillow. Harry adjusted his pillows and laid his head down. His brain never seemed to shut off; tonight was no different. 

He laid there awake until morning.


End file.
